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“Shana. We went out twice.” And he wouldn’t be calling her again. Near the end of their last date, she’d started talking about wedding dates and having kids. He didn’t need any more red flags than that.
“Here you go, sweeties.” Candy returned with their drinks. “Your wings will be out in a few minutes.”
Once again, Connor watched the waitress walk away.
“Did you ask me to meet you here so you could watch her all night?” Rock asked.
“No, but since I’m here, why deny myself?” He picked up his beer bottle and took a swig as his eyes followed Candy until she disappeared through the kitchen door. Then, he turned his attention back to Rock. “You’ve heard of Elite Force Security, right?”
He’d heard of the expensive private security firm who provided protection to anyone who could afford them, including wealthy politicians and businessmen. Not that long ago, he’d read an article about them while in the dentist waiting room. “Yeah.”
“They’re recruiting. I gave them your name and number. I thought after this next trip to the sandbox, you might be ready to retire and rejoin civilian life.”
“I don’t do babysitting.” Following someone around so they felt safe while they shopped didn’t interest him. “Can’t believe you do.” Connor always struck him as the type to stay in the Corps for life. When he’d announced he’d taken a position with Elite Force Security, Rock thought it was some kind of practical joke.
“There’s more to the firm than personal security,” Connor said, his eyes once again looking away from Rock.
“Two orders of wings. Do you need anything else?” Candy placed two plates overflowing with wings and some appetizer dishes on the table.
“How about a phone number?” Connor asked.
Candy didn’t hesitate. She pulled a pen and pad from the apron around her waist, wrote what Rock guessed was her phone number down, and handed the paper to his buddy.
Connor shoved the paper into his pocket. “I’ll call you.”
The guy liked to pick up woman. “That took ya longer than usual,” Rock said once Candy left again. “Few months ago, you would’ve had her number before she brought our beers. Playing babysitter is slowing you down.”
Connor filled his plate with wings before he glanced up at him. “I hear some jealousy. If you wanted her number, you should’ve said something sooner.”
He had a date with Allison Sherbrooke this weekend, the hottest woman he’d ever talked too. Why would he want Candy’s number when he had that to look forward too? While the waitress looked good in her short shorts and low-cut T-shirt, judging by the way she flirted with the male costumers, she’d probably slept with half the men who came in there, which was something a woman like Allison Sherbrooke would never do. Mannaggia, he had to call her. Tonight, he’d do it when he got home. He’d told himself the same thing yesterday, and yet never got around to it. He didn’t put things off or avoid them no matter how unpleasant or painful. This phone call though was kicking his ass.
“Have all the fun you want with Candy. I told you, I have plans this weekend.”
With a shrug, Connor licked the Buffalo sauce from his fingers. “You’ll probably hear from someone this week or next,” he said, going back to what they were discussing before their food arrived.
“You might be ready for saving some spoiled heiress from a photographer who is threatening her with an extra-long camera lens, but I’m not.”
“I don’t do spoiled heiress,” Connor said, and then stopped and smiled. “Well, I would do one, but the firm has never assigned me the job of babysitting one.” He grabbed another wing and added it to his plate. “When they call, sit down and hear ’em out.”
His buddy had him curious. He’d known Connor a long time, and when he’d left the Corps to work as a glorified bodyguard, it hadn’t fit. The guy’s insistence now that they did more than just protect people from the paparazzi had him once again thinking about his friend’s recent career change. If nothing else, hearing what the security firm had to say would satisfy his curiosity.
“Will do.”
***
Allison ended her video conference call with Jake and checked off another item on her to-do list. With Jake out for the next two weeks, she’d promised to handle any pressing issues that couldn’t wait until he got back. So far she’d managed to cross off the first two on her list. Assuming tomorrow’s meeting with Bernstein Construction went well, she’d be able to cross off a third. Jake insisted she’d do fine, but after the rumors she’d heard about Dick Bernstein, she wasn’t as confident. According to the gossip, Dick Bernstein was old school. He’d started the business with his father in the early 1950s and believed women belonged in the home taking care of the children, not the boardroom. Somehow she’d managed to avoid dealing with men like Bernstein up until now. Growing up, her father had always insisted she could do anything her brothers could. Her uncles shared a similar view. Even when she worked for her Aunt Marilyn at the Helping Hands Foundation, she managed to avoid chauvinistic men. If the rumors were true, tomorrow her streak would come to a halt.
Pulling the keyboard closer, Allison logged into her email. She’d checked it first thing this morning, but hadn’t gotten around to it since. Now, her inbox contained two dozen new messages. She’d developed the habit of never leaving work without first emptying her inbox. Nothing was worse than starting a new workday with matters left over from the previous one. With some luck, whatever emails she’d received since this morning wouldn’t require too much work. She’d like to leave on time tonight, or at least ea
rlier than she had last night.
The first one she opened turned out to be nothing more than message from Tasha Marshall inviting her up to a house party in the Hamptons. The Marshalls threw parties on a regular basis. From time to time, she’d attend one, but tonight she didn’t even check to see if it fit her schedule before she typed a reply thanking Tasha for the invite and letting her know she couldn’t make it.
She moved down the list, glad to see so far nothing in her inbox required much more than a yes or no reply. A knock at the door stopped her from opening the last one.
“Come in.”
“Miss Sherbrooke, Mr. Bernstein’s office called while you were on your video call. They need to reschedule tomorrow’s meeting,” Denise, the receptionist, said while walking into the office. “They said later in the month would work better for them.”
